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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26359591">two birds</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlebirdthattoldyou/pseuds/thelittlebirdthattoldyou'>thelittlebirdthattoldyou</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>spiker-setter week 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Epistolary, Getting Together, Iwaizumi Hajime-centric, Letters, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, POV Iwaizumi Hajime, Pining, Texting, i was listening to wasteland baby while writing this and it really shows</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:53:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,471</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26359591</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlebirdthattoldyou/pseuds/thelittlebirdthattoldyou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Five months into the term, two months after he’s stopped replying to Oikawa’s texts, the first package arrives. A small square box, wrapped in brown paper and tied with string, and Hajime almost trips over it on the way to his dorm.</p>
  <p>There’s a letter attached.</p>
</blockquote>Oikawa doesn’t know how many times he’ll have to put his feelings down on paper before Iwaizumi believes them.
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>spiker-setter week 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1912567</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>436</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Haikyuu: Spiker-Setter Week</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>two birds</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>spiker-setter week day 3: <b>separation</b> | <s>second</s></p>
<p>tysm to <a href="/users/aloeverava/">ava</a> for beta reading this for me.</p>
<p>title: “two birds” by regina spektor, which is a vv fitting song for this fic if u wanna listen while u read.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>If Hajime were a poet, he would be able to come up with any number of allegories for Oikawa’s being.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oikawa: thunderstorms at night, rain-soaked boy who leaves the impression of fractured lightning behind your eyelids when he walks by.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oikawa: fragrant as a June day when the roses are in full bloom, cool lemonade and ice and a drumbeat under the earth that rings in your ears like </span>
  <em>
    <span>home, home, home.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oikawa: fire so bright he must have been created just to consume, devouring everything in his path to sate a hunger that will never be satisfied.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oikawa</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>but Hajime is not a poet, so he stops there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What he does let himself think, though he’s careful to keep it secured away in the recesses of his mind, is that Oikawa is extraordinary. Is that Oikawa was always destined to leave him one day and move on for bigger and better things. When you shine as bright as he does, everyone else is either speeding to catch up or weighing you down. And Hajime has always been by Oikawa’s side, but doesn’t know if he can keep up anymore. It’s fitting that their high school graduation is when it happens. An end without a new beginning; a clean break under the sakura trees.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except that isn’t quite how it comes to pass, is it?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was what Hajime planned for them. Their last day together, he would stand and gesture for Oikawa to follow him up away from the crowds, would lead him behind the old Aoba Johsai volleyball gym where they could be alone. He would confess, maybe offer his second button as a last reminder of their past, and allow Oikawa to let him down gently. They’d be able to move on with their lives</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>separate, but at least they’d have a definitive moment of separation to look back on. A sense of closure.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ah. But Hajime has always been a coward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So it’s like this: Oikawa bids Miyagi goodbye for Tokyo, where he has a volleyball scholarship lined up. Hajime leaves for medical school in Osaka the next day</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>that’s two and a half hours away by bullet train. Six hours by car.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before he goes, Oikawa asks Hajime to promise not to forget him. Against all logic </span>
  <em>
    <span>(as if any part of the past eighteen years together had been based on logic), </span>
  </em>
  <span>Hajime agrees.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Three weeks into their first semester, he misses one of their scheduled Skype sessions. A month, and he stops initiating text conversations between them. The apologies and excuses, when he offers them, are thick as lead on his tongue.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Shittykawa 👽: </b>
  <span>biology is already the worst!! flipping through the textbook and i think im gonna die of boredom this year iwa-chan</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Attached file: grumpy_iwa.png</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Shittykawa 👽:</b>
  <span> found this picture of a bug that looks like you </span>
  <span>☆ ～('▽^人)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Shittykawa 👽:</b>
  <span> so gross!!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>You:</b>
  <span> Don’t make me come over there and punch you</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Shittykawa 👽:</b>
  <span> iwa-chan!!!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Shittykawa 👽:</b>
  <span> i will if that’s what it takes to get u to come visit (*¯ ³¯*)♡</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>You:</b>
  <span> You saw me a month ago</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Shittykawa 👽:</b>
  <span> a whole month!! that’s the longest we’ve ever gone</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Shittykawa 👽:</b>
  <span> who even am i when iwa-chan’s not around to threaten violence to my person??</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Shittykawa 👽:</b>
  <span> fine ignore me then!! see if i care!!!!!!</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Shittykawa 👽:</b>
  <span> coach said they’re gonna start putting me in official games!!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>You:</b>
  <span> Congratulations</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Shittykawa 👽:</b>
  <span> ah, iwa-chan is so hard to please o(TヘTo)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Shittykawa 👽:</b>
  <span> “congratulations” that’s all i get?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>You:</b>
  <span> Shut up</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>You:</b>
  <span> You deserve it</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Shittykawa 👽:</b>
  <span> (/▽＼*)｡o○♡</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Shittykawa 👽:</b>
  <span> but really</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Shittykawa 👽:</b>
  <span> im making first string by next year, iwa-chan, believe me</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Shittykawa:</b>
  <span> why is it so hottttttt </span>
  <span>(；￣Д￣)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Shittykawa:</b>
  <span> it’s november!! get with the program, japan!</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Oikawa:</b>
  <span> iwa-chan has some nerve!!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Oikawa:</b>
  <span> not replying to my texts</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Oikawa:</b>
  <span> not liking my instagram posts</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Oikawa:</b>
  <span> I EVEN STARTED TAGGING YOU IN THEM SO YOU’D SEE</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Oikawa:</b>
  <span> o(〒﹏〒)o</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Oikawa:</b>
  <span> are you mad at me?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Oikawa:</b>
  <span> seriously, did i do something?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Oikawa:</b>
  <span> whatever it was, i’m sorry</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Oikawa:</b>
  <span> you can’t be mad anymore, ok? cause i already said sorry ❤ (ɔˆз(ˆ⌣ˆc)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Oikawa:</b>
  <span> i miss you, you know.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>You:</b> <strike><span>I miss you too</span></strike></p>
<p><b>You:</b> <strike><span>I lo</span></strike></p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hajime had seen the Instagram posts. They’re all pictures of Oikawa, who looks happier, healthier now that he’s out of Miyagi and far away from people like Ushijima and Kageyama, people who make him feel like he isn’t good enough. These days he’s always smiling with someone, always has his arm around some stranger’s waist or draped over their shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t look like he misses anyone. He looks quite the opposite.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>(or maybe it’s only taken three months for Hajime to forget how good of a liar Oikawa is)</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s unfair, and he knows it is, but Hajime can’t help but think that Oikawa robbed them of the simple ending they deserved. Bones heal over quickest when they’re broken clean. Anything, </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>, would be better than this slow, torturous rending of limb that they’re subjecting themselves to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead of any sort of concrete goodbye, there’s nothing but this hollow emptiness between them, so raw it itches under Hajime’s skin sometimes. His last memory of Oikawa isn’t nostalgic or bittersweet or sakura-tinted. It’s an ache that only expands each time he thinks back to that last message: </span>
  <em>
    <span>i miss you.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But. None of that changes the fact that it’s better for them this way. Oikawa can’t afford to have some friend from elementary school holding him back, not when he has dreams he needs to chase. And Hajime</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>Hajime has never known how to be selfish enough to sacrifice Oikawa’s ambition for his happiness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So Hajime throws himself wholeheartedly into his classes. It’s not hard; there’s a lot of material to drown in. A lot of rope to hang himself with. The first year of med school is a bitch to get through, and O-chem alone is a good enough distraction that he’s able to push all other thoughts to the side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After his lab hours one day, when the weather has decided to take an abrupt u-turn and the first snow has fallen, a girl Hajime vaguely recognizes as one of his classmates approaches him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” she says with a small wave. Then she hesitates and holds out a hand, the motion slow and unsure. “Himura Aiko. We have bio together?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He takes it. “Right. Iwaizumi Hajime.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice to meet you, Iwaizumi-kun. I’ve seen you around</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>god, I don’t mean to sound creepy, I promise. It’s just that you always seem to be alone? And obviously that’s fine, like, it’s your choice or whatever, but I was wondering if you would like to come hang with my friends sometime? There’s this great restaurant downtown we’ve been meaning to try together.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure,” Hajime says, before he can overthink it. Or before she can. “What time?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great! It’s this Friday at six. Um, here, mind if I give you my phone number? I’ll send you the details later.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hajime hands her his phone and waits while she inputs her number and sends him a text.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There, now you have mine. Well, I gotta go, but see you around, all right? It was nice meeting you!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You, too,” Hajime says, pleased to find that he’s smiling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s not sure why he agrees; it’s more of a spur-of-the-moment decision than anything else. A belief, perhaps, that the new will wash out the old. But whatever it is, Hajime’s coursework really does a number on him that week, and by the end of it, he’s relieved that he has a distraction. He’s more prepared than ever to get off campus.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hahime arrives at the address Himura texted him a few minutes early, and a few seconds after he makes his entrance, she and two of her friends spot him waiting at the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Iwaizumi! Over here!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nods at the hostess and makes his way to their table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everyone, this is Iwaizumi</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>I’ve told you about him, right? Iwaizumi-kun, these are my friends, Kobayashi and Shirai.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gestures to the couple in the seat across from them. At least, Hajime assumes they’re a couple. Kobayashi, a reserved-looking young man with glasses, offers him a small nod. Shirai, sitting on his lap, just smiles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice to meet you guys,” Iwaizumi says, taking his seat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He picks up a menu and studies it, letting the conversation wash over him. None of the others seem to mind; they talk amongst themselves, regaling each other with stories about their days, their pasts, their professors. Little by little, as he listens, he finds it easier to relax. Himura, he learns, is the only other med student. Kobayashi is in business, though he really wants to study art, and Shirai has plans to double major in math and physics despite her advisor’s attempts to talk her into an easier field of study.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, a waiter comes around to take their orders, and soon enough, steaming plates of food are pouring out of the kitchen and being delivered to their table. Hajime’s eyes are immediately drawn to a small platter of agedashi tofu.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shirai’s actually the one who suggested we come here,” Kobayashi says with an affectionate smile. His voice is soft, just loud enough for Hajime to hear without straining for it. “She has this really cute hobby</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She covers her face. “Koba, no, don’t you dare.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She likes to read restaurant reviews on Gurunavi in her free time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ugh, you’re so embarrassing.” She picks up her chopsticks and grabs a vegetable harumaki. “Statistics never lie, though. For example, eighty-six out of the two-hundred-thirty-four five star reviews recommended this.” She bites into it, and her face lights up. “And they were right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hajime laughs. Maybe this will be all right. He’s never been as good at reaching out to people as</span>
  <span>—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well. As Oikawa is</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>as Oikawa used to be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hasn’t let himself think about Oikawa for the entire duration of the meal thus far. He’s become an expert in repressing those kinds of unwanted thoughts, which once threatened to overwhelm him. And now it’s like none of that progress even matters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>(progress, he calls it. three months to forget a liar and four months to become one.)</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His last bite of hayashi rice slides like mud down his throat, and suddenly everything he sees comes with a prepackaged memory about his former best friend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The plate in front of Hajime makes him think of his thirteenth birthday, when Oikawa had faked a cold to get out of school early and sneak over to the Iwaizumis’ house to make agedashi tofu as a surprise. He’d almost burned the house down, and the resulting product was little more than blackened tar, but Iwaizumi forced himself to take a few bites anyway because he couldn’t stand watching Oikawa berate himself for messing it up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The way Shirai flicks her hair over her shoulder sends a faint fragrance of perfume through the air, and Hajime is reminded of all the containers of product Oikawa uses to keep his hair so damn </span>
  <em>
    <span>soft</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Kobayashi’s glasses look just like the ones Oikawa wears when he’s tired or when he’s been crying</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>why hadn’t Hajime noticed earlier? When Himura drums her fingers on the table, he recalls all of Oikawa’s nervous tics</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>biting his nails, tapping his fingers together, chewing on his bottom lip. It’s unbearable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Iwaizumi?” Someone waves a hand in front of his face. Hajime startles, glances up into Himura’s worried face. “You good?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shirai whistles. “Must be some girl you were thinking of there. You were zoned out for an entire minute.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hajime ruthlessly tamps down the heat rising in his neck. “Nah, it’s nothing like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Himura laughs, cutting off any further probing. “Oh, come on, Shirai. You think everyone’s either in love or on their way to it. Just because you and Koba are disgusting together doesn’t mean</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey!” Kobayashi says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And that’s that. Hajime lets out a silent breath of relief.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Oikawa:</b>
  <span> last night i had a dream about you</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Oikawa:</b>
  <span> cmon, iwa-chan, dont you want to know what it was about?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Five months into the term, two months after he’s stopped replying to Oikawa’s texts, the first package arrives.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A small square box, wrapped in brown paper and tied with string, and Hajime almost trips over it on the way to his dorm. There’s no return address marked, so Hajime takes it inside and cuts it open on the kitchen counter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The box is filled to the brim with souvenirs from around Tokyo, ranging from thoughtful to downright tacky. Half of it is taken up by a fluffy Godzilla plush; the rest is full of assorted candies and snacks, a miniature model of the Tokyo skytree, and a few individually wrapped milk breads with a familiar logo printed on the plastic packaging.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a letter attached.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Iwa-chan,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re so rude, ignoring me (me!! did you forget how much blackmail I have on you??), but I might be willing to forgive you if you grovel enough. Maybe call me “Oikawa-san” until the New Year, too, for good measure.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I wish I could’ve seen your face reading that sentence! I’m imagining it now, the way you get all frowny and scrunchy. Like you just ate a whole lemon. What a brute! Iwa-chan never appreciates me enough. But then again, who could?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Do you remember our first year of high school, when we went on that class trip to Tokyo? And it was raining and all the teachers were so worried because they didn’t want to get in trouble with our parents for getting us sick? I still think it was your fault we got lost that day. You were the one who stayed too long at the museum looking at the wood carvings! And then you gave </span>
  </em>
  <span>me </span>
  <em>
    <span>the map and told me to take us back to the group, even though you know I don’t have any sense of direction at all!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, these milk breads are from that bakery we ran into when it started thundering outside. I was out walking at night after late practice because I couldn’t sleep, and can you believe I found it again? After all these years. It’s not the best milk bread I’ve ever had, but maybe the memories make up for that.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And the Godzilla! Isn’t it cute? I almost didn’t send it because I was going to keep it for myself… but then I decided to be nice. And I also sent it partly because I wanted an excuse to remind you of that time when we were seven and you made me watch the entire franchise front to back. And you peed the couch because you wouldn’t pause during your favorite part to go to the bathroom. So uncool, Iwa-chan.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The other stuff is all random. Just little things I saw that I thought you would like. You still eat sour candies, right? I never understood why you would eat any candy that wasn’t sweet. They’re so gross.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Also I went up to the Skytree with some of my friends. It was in the evening, and the view was so pretty from that high up. I’ll take you there when you come to visit.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Someday, I guess.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Write me back, quickly. Or text! Or call! Iwa-chan is still a gorilla, but I miss seeing his gorilla face in my Skype window.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Your favorite (I better still be!!),</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oikawa-san.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He shoves the box and its contents under the yawning stack of graded assignments in one of his desk drawers. He doesn’t write back. Or text, or call.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hanamaki, though, calls him later that night. When Hajime first sees the caller ID, he hesitates, wondering if Oikawa somehow put him up to this. Then he decides that he’s being paranoid</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>if he still knows Oikawa, he knows the brat will be too proud to air their interpersonal difficulties with any of their mutual friends</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>and picks up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Iwaizumi!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you want?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Charming as always. Whatever. My school’s already on winter hols, so I’m hopping on the train to Sendai first thing this weekend. When are you coming? We should schedule a meetup, all four of us, like old times. I bet I can beat you in arm wrestling now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s doubtful. But he won’t get the chance to prove it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not going back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Silence. Static.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>what? Why not?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hajime rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, putting on the act alone in his dorm room for no one to see. “Classes are kicking my ass, man. I really need to stay to study over the break. Fewer distractions here, y’know?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>(distractions like shiny chestnut curls and wide brown eyes with pretty lashes. distractions like the bubbling, frothing desire in his lower belly that he should have gotten rid of by now.)</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can’t you study in Miyagi? Come on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry. I want to be there, really. Don’t take it personally.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh huh. Well, Oikawa’s going to be disappointed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He is? I mean, are you going to talk to him about it?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hanamaki makes an inquiring noise over the line. “Haven’t you? He’s been blowing me up with texts looking forward to break. I thought you would’ve had to bear the worst of it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hajime hasn’t heard a thing about it from Oikawa. The thought leaves him strangely bereft.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eh, whatever,” Hanamaki says. “I’ll pass on the bad news. Try to visit sometime, though. Don’t be a stranger and all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Definitely not. See you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, bye.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I had a thought,” Shirai says. They’re in her and Himura’s dorm; they’re roommates. Shirai and Kobayashi occupy one bed, Koba’s head on top of Shirai’s legs. Hajime and Himura sit cross-legged on the other, keeping several feet between them. Hajime flips absently through a deck of bio flashcards, and Himura is busy typing something out on her laptop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s a first,” Kobayashi says. Shirai pokes him on the forehead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was thinking,” she continues, looking at Hajime, “how cute would it be if ‘Zumi and Himura started dating? We could make our Friday dinners into double dates!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Himura shoots Hajime an apologetic look. “Don’t listen to her. She’s one of those raving, foaming-at-the-mouth romantic types. As you’ve probably learned by now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Am not!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are too,” Kobayashi puts in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shirai huffs, but obliges them and changes the topic. It’s not brought up again until later, when Hajime and Himura are walking together to the medical building on the opposite side of campus.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry about her,” Himura says. “I know you’re not into that sort of thing, anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At that, Iwaizumi feels his eyebrows raise. In theory, as far as he knows, he likes boys and girls. </span>
  <em>
    <span>(in practice, he’s loved one boy since he knew what love was.)</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Himura blushes, embarrassed. “Um. I mean, it’s kind of obvious that you’re stuck on someone? I mean, it seems like you’re thinking about them a lot, and</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>I don’t know, maybe I’m totally wrong and totally freaking you out. But you look kind of… sad. A lot of the time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wonders if he’s really that easy to read.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I won’t tell anyone, of course,” Himura says, and Hajime realizes that he forgot to deny the statement. “But maybe you should talk to them? I mean</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>I don’t know. It’s your life. You don’t have to listen to me. Obviously.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hajime doesn’t know if he can bring himself to get back in contact with Oikawa at this point, even if he wanted to. He doesn’t know what he wants anymore. But Himura means well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” he says, and the rest of the walk passes in silence.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He should have expected the second package. Part of him shies away from opening it at all, but he can’t bring himself to throw it out without looking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a letter, again, on the same heavy cream paper. The kanji are neat and uniform</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>Hajime wonders how many drafts Oikawa had to go through before he deemed them satisfactory enough to send off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The box is much larger this time, lined with row after row of colorful origami cranes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something warm and wistful twists in his stomach as he reads.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Iwa-chan,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I heard from Makki that you aren’t coming back for break. And here I was, getting so excited to see you again. I feel stupid about it now. You’ve always had a way of making me feel foolish, but.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Nevermind.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Anyway. I don’t have a lot of free time these days, with volleyball and school and everything, but I’ve started doing origami whenever I do get a break. I say “origami,” but really it’s just paper cranes. As you can probably tell.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I hope none of them get wrinkled or torn on the way. I picked out only the best to send to you, Iwa-chan. Please take care of them and put them somewhere nice</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>they’ll look pretty strung up near a window, I think.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>If you’re wondering why</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>well, it’s kind of silly. You know that myth where if you fold a thousand paper cranes you’ll get any wish you want? I folded a thousand of them, I promise, even if I couldn’t fit them all in one box for you. And so my wish is for you to send something to me.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Not over mail. Or, it doesn’t have to be. A text would be fine, just to let me know you’re doing okay. The only reason I’m not worried you’re dead in a ditch somewhere is because of Makki. I’m going to get stress wrinkles from worrying about you so much. My hair might turn gray. That’s not something you should do to your best friend, don’t you think?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ah, and if it’s not too much to ask, maybe you could tell me why you aren’t talking to me anymore? I keep trying to think of things, but I really can’t figure out what I did wrong. But if you tell me, I promise I’ll try to fix it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You really mean a lot to me, Iwa-chan. Like, “thousand-paper-cranes” a lot. I guess I haven’t told you that as much as I should.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Happy New Year.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Yours,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oikawa Tooru</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>You:</b>
  <span> Happy new year.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Himura and the others look at him with worried eyes when they think he doesn’t notice. They whisper about him sometimes, syllables hushed and pinched with concern.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His grades are pristine. Every time he catches sight of the colorful cranes hanging from his dorm window, tied in streamers, he grits his teeth and completes another assignment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mom calls and asks when he’ll be back to visit. He doesn’t have an answer, doesn’t think he can handle the return to a city, a house, a home haunted by Oikawa’s ghost.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t know if Oikawa times it that way or if it’s an unrelated coincidence, but the third package arrives on Valentine’s Day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The box is completely empty, save for a single sheet of paper.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The letters are written in ink, but they might as well be blood.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Hajime,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>To be honest, I’ve been wanting to tell you this for some time now. I was holding myself back because I was so scared of ruining our friendship, but now there’s nothing to ruin, is there? It’s sort of freeing, in a way.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You used to tell me so often to stop acting fake all the time. So here’s the truth, finally, and you better appreciate it:</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m in love with you. And that’s it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>My best guess is that I’ve loved you for a while. I tried to backtrack to the moment I realized, but there wasn’t one. You were always there, and I was happy. And then you left, and that really hurt. You’re always so mean to me, Iwa-chan, but this one really takes the cake.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The last letter I sent, I signed off as “yours.” It was dumb, I guess, but I meant it. I wanted to belong to you so badly. I still do.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>Yours.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>The nice thing about that is I can give myself to you even if you don’t want me. I love you, and even if you don’t feel the same, I hope it at least makes you happy knowing that you’re loved.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s nice to be selfless for once.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I think I’ll probably love you until I die. You would yell at me for that, if you were here.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I wish you were here.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Yours,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tooru</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Himura Aiko:</b>
  <span> Lab’s starting, where are you???</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>You:</b>
  <span> Sorry. Something came up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Himura Aiko:</b>
  <span> Prof. Oshiro does not look happy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>You:</b>
  <span> Cover for me?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Himura Aiko:</b>
  <span> Ok, I’ll try.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s funny.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By which Hajime means that it’s not funny in the least.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But there’s a sort of sick humor in the whole thing. Hajime spent all those years telling Oikawa to </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop pretending you’re fine all the time, dumbass. Talk to me. I’m here for you.</span>
  </em>
  <span> And not once did he realize how much of a hypocrite he’s become.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a role reversal he’s not prepared for. Oikawa, laying himself bare and bleeding, Hajime hiding behind pitfalls he’s dug for himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If they’re talking role reversals, though, maybe he can muster up one more. Oikawa has already taken the first step. All Hajime needs to do is let himself go after the things he wants for once</span>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Let himself be selfish.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As it turns out, two and a half hours is barely any time at all when he’s already been wasting weeks, months</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>hell, maybe even years, if you feel like counting back that far. He spends the train ride staring out the window and trying to find the right words to say when he arrives at his destination. Nothing suitable comes to mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tokyo Station is bustling with people at this time of day. Businessmen in dark suits are just getting off from work; couples dine at the station restaurants and lean in closer than necessary to talk to each other. The sight makes Hajime ache with want, and he makes up his mind to stop trying to suppress it. He wants to sit at one of those stupid frilly cafés and hold Oikawa’s hand and buy him all the pastries he can eat. He wants Oikawa to be his.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>(and isn’t it a lovely feeling, to know that he already is?)</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a fifteen minute walk to Chuo’s campus. Hajime knows where Oikawa’s dorm is located</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>it’s one of the first texts he received when they were still moving in. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So you can find me, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Oikawa had said, and Hajime is grateful for it, even if he only has the presence of mind to use it half a year late.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oikawa doesn’t have any roommates that he knows of</span>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>Hajime’s sure he would have heard about them, otherwise. He takes the stairs up two at a time, rehearsing the lines he wants to say in his head. By the time he reaches Oikawa’s door, he’s out of breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But there’s no time to wait for his body to recover. If he stops now, the risk that he’ll chicken out is far too great. He won’t let himself turn around and leave the way he came, not now. So he sets a hand on the door handle and twists it open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s unlocked. Maybe, in lieu of a confession, he ought to talk to Oikawa about stricter safety measures.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everything and anything he was planning to say, though, dies on his lips when he sees Oikawa. He’s sitting, hunched over on the bed, back turned to the door. Some sort of romantic comedy is playing on the laptop in front of him, but it’s muted. His attention seems to be on something in his hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s in the soft, ugly blue-and-yellow flannel pajamas his sister got him as a joke but which he unironically loves. Either he got back from classes and changed into them, or he never changed out in the first place. Based on his hair, normally immaculate but currently in a state of messy disarray, Hajime would place his bets on the second option.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘Kawa,” Iwaizumi says. His voice comes out far too hoarse, too quiet. “Oikawa.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oikawa stills. Turns, slowly, and it looks like he’s holding his breath. He only lets it out when he sees Iwaizumi in his doorway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The wave of guilt that washes over Hajime is immediate and paralyzing. Oikawa looks more wrecked than he’s ever been. He’s wearing those old glasses to hide the puffiness of his eyes, and the thing he’s holding</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>clutching, really, like it’s a lifeline</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>is another paper crane.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asks, so, so small.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tooru,” Hajime breathes. He steps forward, each footfall as cautious as he can make it, like a hunter trying not to rustle the underbrush.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sits down at the foot of the bed, leaving some distance between their bodies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hajime,” Tooru says. “Why</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>how are you here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I got your letter,” Hajime says. He’s helpless, hopeless under Oikawa’s laser-focused gaze. “I took the first train here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oikawa worries at his bottom lip. “Okay. Why?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I had to see you</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>Tooru, I’m so sorry. I’ve been so fucking stupid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oikawa laughs. Weak, but it’s a start. “That’s a first. I mean, I already knew, but it’s refreshing that you’re scolding yourself for once instead of me.”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Hajime says. “It was all me. I thought I was doing the right thing, being so fucking selfless</span> <span>by letting you have a life without me there to hold you back.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>And he actually looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>surprised </span>
  </em>
  <span>to hear that. “You’ve never held me back, Iwa-chan.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I got scared. I thought you would want more than I could give you</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>I didn’t know how you felt</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, because I’ve always been so fake, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hajime snaps his mouth shut at the acid in his voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.” Oikawa pinches the bridge of his nose, takes a deep breath. “I’m kind of mad, though. You couldn’t have texted, even once? You couldn’t have told me you didn’t want to talk to me, instead of leaving me to worry about whether you were even alive?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I should have. I’m sorry. I fucked up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm. You’re lucky I know you so well. And that I’m such a nice person.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So does that mean</span>
  <span>—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It means I might be able to forgive you someday. If you make it up to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hajime huffs, but it’s more for the pretense than anything. This is no more than he deserves. Really, he was half-certain Oikawa wouldn’t want to see him at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oikawa’s eyes don’t stray from his for a second, and his expression turns serious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve never been a burden to me. You’re my ace, Hajime. I’m at my best when you’re by my side. I thought that was obvious.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you’re my setter.” Testing the waters. He reaches out and takes Oikawa’s hands, gently uncurling them from the paper crane and holding them in his own. “And I do love you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oikawa makes a noise that sounds like half a sigh and half the beat of a butterfly’s wings. Hajime squeezes his hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you,” he repeats, “and I want you to be mine. And I want to be yours. No more stupid secrets. No more hiding.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want that, too,” Oikawa says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s still a hint of fear in the lines of his body, a sense of anxiety that Hajime will change his mind and leave. It hurts to see, but they have a long road ahead of them and a lot of trust to rebuild.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For now, Hajime raises Oikawa’s hands to his lips, achingly slow. When Oikawa makes no move to pull away, he presses a kiss to the pad of each of Oikawa’s fingers in turn.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s the way rain kisses the earth, the way dew kisses every velvet petal on a rose. The way a campfire’s heat kisses freezing men and makes them warm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The skin is rough, calloused with years of hard volleyball practice, every one of them spent with Hajime at his side. Oikawa has always run a little too hot</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>maybe it’s the heat of passion inside him, threatening to burn him up</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>but now Hajime lets himself be drawn in by the warmth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hajime is not a poet, but he doesn’t think any poet could describe this: Oikawa lights up at every brief touch of Hajime’s lips, and his eyes fill with wonder. His fingers tremble, just slightly, where they’re splayed over Hajime’s cheek, and Hajime doesn’t think he’s faring much better.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How do you capture a boy like this in flimsy words?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All Hajime can say is he’s never known what healing was like until now.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>iwaoi drifting apart in college is my Worst Nightmare, but i have now faced it and come through the other side unscathed <s>jk i cried writing this but we’re not gonna talk about that.</s></p>
<p>this was my first angst fic so feel free to let me know how i did in the comments &lt;3</p>
<p>
  <a href="https://thelittlebirdthattoldyou.tumblr.com/">my tumblr</a>
</p></blockquote></div></div>
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